


Nightmares

by sozmom



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Comfort fic, M/M, Mild Angst, nightmare fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7422253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sozmom/pseuds/sozmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all parts of being a vampire are glamorous.</p><p>*written by that-loser-certain-to-be-crooked I am merely hosting this fic for her*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

It was like a blinding heat had covered Simon body as he awoke to darkness and sweat clad sheets. Reaching for where his pounding heart would be looked down at the his torso with a more disappointed expression than anything else. Furrowed eyebrows had stared at the place above a dead organ and the boy had twisted out of the sticky linen and let his shaky legs meet the floor.

He stared for a second at the barely lit floor, his pale feet and legs hanging over the mattress. His breath unevenly became a terrible beat to the sound of his pounding head and it was a new record for him as he gave one cough and heaved over, letting his stomach contents fall into the bucket by his head.

Preparation, Raphael had said, for next time.

God, that made Simon feel fucking worthless

A worthless piece of baggage Raphael was walking around with.

His arms eventually gave way and he slipped from his place at the edge of the mattress and let his forearms keep him hovering above the floor. Cold wood and the metallic taste in his mouth was what kept Simon steady as his vision became hazy and the numbness of his body became sore.

It was then that he finally broke.

The streams of tears fell until his mouth became slightly salty and his chest was bouncing with sudden bursts of sobs, gasping for breath he didn’t need. Old habits die hard.  
He gave between a cough and a laugh as he thought of this.

The harsh fluorescent light from outside had made him bury his face in the floor again as his door was opened. Harshly closed, his eyes were given a second of relief before his bedroom light was turned on.

He wanted it to be his mom.

But as his glasses were shoved into his grip and the familiar shoes came into view he already knew who it was.

“Get up” and exasperated voice sighed “Let’s get you clean. You smell like ...”

“Death” Simon finished, bitterly replying as he sat up, refusing to meet his eyes “Figures”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was childlike, as Simon sat on the toilet seat, staring at his bare feet for what felt like the millionth time as Raphael poured the red liquid into the glass. The smell was enough to make the boy pale and grip his sides with too much pressure.

Don’t throw up.

That was all he could hope for.

He’d begged for aspirin the first night, pleaded with the shorter man for some sort of relief, only to be given the dead pan statement of “It won’t do you any good. No relief, no outcome. Modern medicine is practically useless to us”

He’d come to learn that Raphael found little reason to sugar coat anything, and Simon almost wanted someone to lie to him most of the time after this. But appreciated it, because it would be the worst thing for him, to go into this with anything but blunt honesty.

Blunt as the metaphorical knife Raphael had dug into his side as Simon had spoke.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore”

“You know where the door is. Just leave your room key at the front desk”

The glass of blood had been pushed into his shaky hand as Raphael leaned back against the counter. Despite it being barely dark he was already dressed in his suit, too formal for Simon’s cotton shirt and thin shorts.

“You can leave anytime you want. But that doesn’t mean you’ll be welcomed back”

Instead of answering Simon stared down at the cup of red, strange against the glass, strange against his hand. He’d never get used to holding it. Without being told, he struggled against the urge to block his nose as he downed the glass, thicker than usual. He wiped his mouth with the bottom of his t-shirt once he had placed the glass on the counter, earning a scoff from Raphael.

It was only when he really looked that he saw the pack of aspirin lying in the counter beside the bottle of blood.

“What are those here for?” he asked, pointing at the packet of medicine.

Raphael was quick to snatch them and place them into his pocket as he tried to remain casual. Shrugging his shoulder he gave Simon an impassive look and answered in a nonchalant voice.

“You asked me to get them”

“I thought you said they were useless?” Simon questioned, still very confused.

Flushed cheeks and an awkward stance made the leader of the vampire clan look very unprofessional and he seemed more irritated than embarrassed then.

“Stop being so complicated Lewis. Just take the damned gesture as a way to ease your mind and just take a shower, you smell of vomit”

Storming from the bathroom, Simon was quick to follow but was stopped by the shorter man who stood between him and the door way.

“And for fucks sake, put on some damned clothes”

**Author's Note:**

> all credit to That-loser-certain-to-be-crooked who blessed me with this fic


End file.
